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too?”
    She blushed. “Oh. Right. I didn’t teleport it here. I, uh,
needed a fork in the middle of the night so I went and got one. You know.”
    “Right.” He nodded, as if it were a common thing.
    Cooks, gives head, and dismisses my seeming
eccentricities?
    He moved closer to her and set the plate on the bedside
table. He stumbled momentarily, frowned, and picked up the tablet at his feet.
He turned it upside down, face puzzled, then looked at Jaime. His eyes sparkled
and she lost track of what he was doing. She was drawn to the contours of his
face, wanting to memorize them, to paint them, to touch them. She reached out
and took the tablet with one hand, setting it next to the cooling breakfast.
Her other hand traced down the bridge of his nose, across one of his
cheekbones, tickling her fingers in his stubble, down to his mouth. It was warm
and moist. He pressed a small kiss to her fingers.
    Jaime pulled him down on the bed. She wanted to count the
colors in his irises, the dark browns and the lighter ambers, touches of green.
She could lose herself in his regard. “Good morning,” she murmured, running a
hand down his arm, trailing her nails roughly down the vines in his tattoo.
    “Morning,” he returned, and then she pulled his mouth to
hers, pressing her tongue between his lips. He opened up to her and she could
feel her body throbbing with heat, her face flushed, the folds between her legs
leaking juices.
    He moved on top of her and she encircled him with her legs,
pulling him close until she could feel his erection pressed right against her
sweet spot. She ground against him as they kissed. Jaime hadn’t made out with a
guy like this since freshman year—and even then, it had been ridiculous heated
fumbling in the student lounge, body parts sticking out everywhere, neither of
them with any clue as to what they were doing.
    The god Dionysus knew what he was doing.
    He pressed the top of his thigh between her legs, letting
her rub her clit against him. She dipped one hand in the back of his pants,
feeling the hot skin of his ass, pulling him tight against her body. He nipped
along her chin and down to her neck. “Delicious way to wake up in the morning,”
he said. “Much better than pancakes.”
    She laughed and the vibration her body made with the sound
tickled her clit perfectly against the fabric between them. Why was there
fabric between them? She laughed again, the echo of it reminding her of a silly
drunk girl. “Where did you get this ink done? I would love to meet the artist.
Maybe have him tattoo more of you.” She flexed her hand against his ass. She
wanted to say something outrageous. “Maybe we’ll find a good use for the
syrup?” Now there was a fantasy she wouldn’t mind him fulfilling. The two of
them all sticky, rubbing together in bed, his cock pushing deep inside her.
    There was something she’d forgotten. What was it? His mouth
was on her neck. She wanted it lower, on her nipples, trailing down her
stomach, teasing at her pubic hair, moving ever lower. What had she forgotten?
God, she could just eat him up.
    Eat him up?
    She remembered what she’d read last night about the things
the women who followed him had done. Myth, children’s tales, right? They didn’t
seem as bad now, in the light of day. But she had to know.
    Snap out of it, James.
    The fog in her mind was so pleasant, though, and she felt
tipsy as though she’d had a glass or three of wine. Her body was heavy. Did she
really have to stop?
    His mouth had left her neck. “Are you okay? Jaime?”
    She shook her head. She focused on clearing her mind. She
took her hand out from beneath his pants and shoved at his chest, rolling
herself out from under it. Jaime was panting hard, trying to think.
    “I’m sorry,” he said. She could hear hurt in her voice. She
wanted to comfort him, but she also didn’t want to look at him. “Sometimes I
forget the strength of my power. I can dim it a bit for you, if you like.